


i'm not your son

by msnonstop



Series: the other fifty-one [3]
Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alexander Hamilton has Daddy Issues, Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Daddy Issues, Gen, George Washington is a Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msnonstop/pseuds/msnonstop
Summary: President George Washington finds out he has fathered a son with the late Rachel Faucette.Alexander finds out he has another father he doesn't want.Washington brings Alexander to the White House.





	i'm not your son

George’s day had started off, ordinarily enough.

He woke up, ate breakfast with Martha and Lafayette and went into a meeting. It was in the middle of that meeting, that a whole new chapter of his life began.

“Mr. President?” his secretary, a young woman named Sally, said in the doorway, interrupting his meeting as she did, “There’s an urgent letter here for you. It is a family matter and the man who delivered it specifically stated that you were to open it immediately.”

George wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to ignore her words completely and get this meeting over it. The word ‘family’ though, _that_ piqued his interest.

“I’m afraid this meeting must be postponed gentlemen,” said George, getting up, ignoring the complaints from his cabinet members as he did. He grabbed the letter from Sally and opened it as he made his way towards the oval office.

_Mr. George Washington,_

_We regret to inform you that Rachel Faucette passed away on the fourteenth of August 2017. Enclosed is the letter that she left for you in her will, as well as the documents needed to fulfill her last wishes._

_Best,_

_Sofia Cortez, Secretary of Will and Final Testaments, St Kitts and Nevis_

Rachel Faucette.

The last time he had heard that name felt like a million years ago. He opened the second letter with care, like it would break if he didn’t.

_George,_

_I know that I never told you, but when you left I discovered I was pregnant. I will keep this short, as I know that you were always impatient._

_His name is Alexander and he is the brightest boy that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He’s passionate, articulate and will always speak his mind. As I write this, I am of ill health and wish that if I am to pass on, that Alexander goes to you._

_Your Friend,_

_Rachel_

He had a son.

Thoughts didn’t come to him, and only one thing was clear within the chaos.

He had a son.

He sat down in his desk, pulling out his pen to write a letter.

* * *

 

Alexander hated all of this.

His mother was dead.

His cousin was dead.

His brother was gone.

And now, he was leaving the one place that he had called his home and going to a different continent. The secret service of the United States was escorting him into a private jet and flying him straight to Washington DC, the capital of the United States of America. Honestly, he didn’t really know what was going on. All he knew is that they had shown up about a week after his mother died, they informed him who they were, and now he was going to the States. Alex didn’t want to go to the states. He wanted to stay on the island with the only friends he had ever had. He looked out of the window, down at the city below him.

It was so  _different_.

There were so many lights, so many buildings and so many businessmen. He felt dirty here. He felt like he didn’t deserve the clean air that he was breathing.

The plane landed.

A member of the secret service grabbed his arm, saying nothing as he did. Alex was beginning to get frustrated. Why the hell wouldn’t anyone tell him _anything_?

“What the hell is going on?!” Alex asked, “Where the hell are you guys taking me?!”

He was ignored. Instead, they held onto his arm and pulled him towards the building in front of them.

Now, Alex knew that he wasn’t paying attention before. However, he does not know how he could miss this. They were taking him straight towards the White House. Right in front of him, was the building where the President lived. The building where everything was decided for the entire of the country. Alexander felt speechless. Why the hell were they taking him there?

Alex said nothing as he was dragged through the twists and turns of the giant building. He just kept walking alongside the secret service members, no longer struggling against them. He gasped as the secret service stopped, _right in front of the oval office._

They said nothing but pushed him into the doors.

He looked at them.

They gestured at him to go inside.

Alexander walked through the doors.

And suddenly, he was standing in front of the President of the United States.

“Come in.”

Alexander walked towards the man awkwardly.

“Let me look at you, son,” said the President

_I’m not your son._

The response was on the tip of his tongue.

He said nothing.

Alexander stepped forward, standing less than a metre away from the older man.

Alex felt the other man’s eyes look him up and down, scanning his face as he did. Alex felt himself doing the same thing. He was surprised at what he saw. He wasn’t like he had never seen the President on TV before, but electricity was scarce on the island and it wasn’t like they could’ve afforded it anyway. Now though, standing right there, right in front of the man himself he found things there he had never noticed before. They had the same nose. The same bridge, the same pointed tip. The same eyebrows too, they way they arched at the tail of their brows. They weren’t immediate, you couldn’t see them right away, but they were there.

_What the hell was going on?_

“You have her eyes,” the president muttered

Alexander froze.

Despite not looking much like his mother, his and his mother’s eyes were uncannily similar. They had the same strikingly violet eyes, a gene that had gone all but instinct, yet somehow, they were his own. They were the one thing he had left of his mother, everything else had been left on the island or died with her.

But this wasn’t the point.

The president  _knew_ his mother.

Alexander wasn’t an idiot.

The secret service had brought him here, into the  _oval office_ , and the president knew who his mother was. He was angry. How could a man like Washington leave his mother on the island, with nothing.

He voiced his thoughts.

“How  _could_ you?” he asked venomously, “How could you leave us there? How could you leave us with nothing?”

“I didn’t know,” the man replied bitterly, “I didn't know I had a child until I got the letter from your mother a couple days ago. Trust me, if I had known, I would have stayed. I would have taken your mother back with me to the States. I would have given you _everything_.”

Somehow, Alexander didn’t doubt that. He didn’t doubt that George Washington was a good person, but there was something inside of him that couldn’t let it be true. He ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight today.

“What is going to happen?” he asked, “What does this mean? Am I going to live with you?”

“I would like that,” said the President, “Your mother left me as your legal guardian, and I intend to carry out her last wishes. Though, if there is anything you are not comfortable with, let me know, son.”

There it was again.

“I’ll live with you,” Alexander replied reluctantly, “That doesn’t mean I’m going to like it.”

The president smiled, and for a second Alexander could see the indecision within him.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

* * *

 

Somewhere within the next month, a sense of normalness arrived.

Alexander would wake up, have breakfast with Martha and George and the retreat to his room, where he would stay until he had to go to a class. The president had not yet revealed his existence to the world, so as much as Alexander wanted to, he wasn’t allowed to go to a normal high school. It wasn’t like he had breached the topic though, Alexander hadn’t made habit of talking to his new found father and stepmother, no matter how hard they tried to talk to him.

“George,” he had insisted that Alexander called him George, “When will you tell the public of my existence?”

It had been something that Alex had wondered from the beginning. How long would he stay the President’s dirty little secret?

George didn’t answer right away. Instead, he paused for a second considering his answer greatly.

“I’m not sure Alexander,” he said, not looking him directly in the eye, “Of course, if you’re ready we could reveal it, but we need to find a good opportunity.”

Alexander knew that George would need to reveal it soon, he would be better to have an announcement about it, rather than something getting out.

“I don’t really care when you do it,” he replied honestly, “It’s going to have to happen at some point, I’d just rather it’d happen under our control.”

“I’ll check my schedule,” he replied, “I’ll see when the next press conference is.”

Alexander nodded.

He knew how awkward he made everything. He knew that his presence disrupted whatever sense of routine George and Martha had before he came here. He knew he was going to cause them so many _problems_.

So was it really a stretch for him to wonder why they kept him here?

Was it really so hard to believe that he didn’t know why they bothered to give him a room to sleep in?

Alexander didn’t think so.

Alexander finished his cereal, leaving his bowl there and went to the gardens, deciding that he wanted some fresh air. He hadn’t been outside much recently and decided that it probably could do him some good. On his way out he stopped by the library, grabbing one of the books on the shelves as he did, just wanting a big book to read.

He sat down under one of the many large trees found outside the White House. He smiled, for the first time since he got here really, as the sun shone on his face. He could not remember the last time he felt this calm, this in control.

This was when the sound of the apocalypse rang through the yard.

A camera shutter.

A flash.

Alexander’s head snapped towards the sound. Gathered at the front of the White House, pushing their lenses through the gates, were dozens of people.

“ _Shit._ ”

Alexander snapped his book close, not even bothering to save his page as he did, and ran back towards the entrance. He ran, turning his face away from the camera, hoping that they hadn't seen his face. Once he had gotten into the building he ran through the halls, ignoring everyone who yelled at him to slow down. He ran as fast as he could towards the oval office, busting the doors open as he did. He ignored the secret service agents that pointed their guns towards him.

“Stand down,” said George, “Alexander, son, what’s wrong?”

“Cameras,” he panted, “Cameras saw me reading outside.”

George cursed under his breath before barking orders at the secret service agents beside him.

“Go outside, stop whatever chaos is going on,” he said to one of them.

The man nodded running out of the room quickly

“You!”

“Yes sir,” said another agent, standing to attention,

“Get me, Press Secretary Burr,” he said, “This concerns us and us alone.”

The man nodded before running off to find the  Press Secretary.

“Come here, Alexander.”

Alexander complied, moving towards the President silently.

“I need you to understand that no matter what, I am not ashamed of you.”

That was not what Alexander had been expecting to come out of the other man’s mouth. He had expected for the President to yell at him for being stupid, for damaging his career beyond repair. For some reason, it was oddly comforting. It was comforting in the way that the President believed that by showing Alexander off to the world, maybe this wouldn't hurt him. Alexander wanted to laugh at the thought. Whatever moment they had, whatever brief instance of intimacy they had just shared was disrupted by a rather loud knock at the door. At the sound, Alexander backed off and sat down beside George.

“Come in,” said the President, resuming his professional stance, his shoulders back and head held high.

The Press Secretary, Alexander found out, was a woman by the name of Esther Edwards Burr. She was also extraordinarily talented at making it seem like she had said a wealth of information while saying so little. Alexander found that she was perfect for her job. She was with them for about fifteen minutes and had devised a plan to reveal Alexander’s presence at the press conference they would hold tonight. There were only a few changes that needed to be made, one of them being that Alexander’s presence would be needed and another being that Alexander needed a suit.

* * *

 

Alexander wasn’t letting himself, be nervous, he didn’t need that right now.

As he walked towards the press conference he said nothing, his only sign of nerves being his fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. He heard George on the stage, preparing the answer to the one question that each person wanted.

“It has come to my attention that earlier today, a young boy was spotted on the property, reading a book under one our many trees. In addition, it has also come o my attention, that many seem to have the need to know who that boy was. Well, today I have the answer.”

George took one last glance in Alexander's direction. He made eye contact as if to ask if he was sure, if he was truly okay with this. Alexander just nodded.

It was fine.

He could do this.

“The boy sitting under the tree earlier today is my recently discovered son,” said Washington, continuing to speak, even after the uproar of the crowd. “His name is Alexander and his birth was the product of fling I had with a woman named Rachel Faucette fifteen years ago. He goes by the last name Hamilton, the last name given to him by his mother. His mother recently passed away and left him in my care. Alexander himself is here, and can answer any further questions you may have.”

Alex took that as his cue, walking out from where he was hidden behind some curtains. He squinted at the bright flashes of the camera, making his way towards the microphone.

“Hey,” he began awkwardly, “I’ll be taking one question at a time. Raise your hand I guess? Just try and keep it orderly.”

Thankfully, the reporters complied and Alex called on a young man in the front row.

“When did you begin living with the President?”

“About a month ago.”

At his answer, it seemed that about a thousand people at once began writing furiously.

“Where were you born?”

“Puerto Rico.”

It continued like this for a while, the reporters would ask him about his previous lifestyle and he would give the succinct, straight to the point answers. It was fine, things like this were things Alex had originally liked to keep private, his mother being a sore spot of sorts. Though he might live somewhere new, that wasn't going to change.

“What are your opinions on the funds that are going to Puerto Rico after the hurricane?”

At these words, Alexander eyes lit with a fire of passion for his home. He launched himself into a tangent, going on about each and every topic, not missing a single point. It was when he paused for breath that he realized what he had done. He closed his mouth sheepishly before composing himself.

“That’ll be all for today.”

He squeaked the last part out.

Alexander stepped down from the podium and then ran. He ran as fast as he could, hoping to get away before they could see the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. _Stupid_. Why couldn’t he stop talking? Now everyone in the entire fucking country will think he’s a stupid teenager who can’t keep his mouth shut. He was an embarrassment to George and Martha. He didn't know why they bothered to keep him around in the first place. Surely, they would send him back now, now that they knew how stupid he could be. Finally, Alexander found himself in the one place he felt safe in this place.

_The library._

* * *

 

George didn’t know how to react.

He had thought that Alexander had been doing quite well, answer each question quickly and to the point. Suddenly, when asked about one of Alexander’s own opinions, George saw a new side of the boy he never knew existed. This Alexander was fiery and spoke with a passion that had seemed to only linger in the eyes of the Alexander he had come to know. It was marvellous. At that moment, George saw the boy Rachel had described, hell, he saw _Rachel_. The fierce woman who had enslaved his heart had a kindred spirit within her own son. So, it confused George when Alexander had suddenly clammed up and ran away. He ran after the boy, faintly hearing the sound of the reporters behind him. He dashed after the smaller boy, his older age, not quite allowing him to keep pace with the boy. Finally, he found him in the library, sat in a chair way in the back, curled into a ball.

“What’s wrong son?”

George noticed Alexander flinch as he spoke, at what though, he wasn’t sure.

“M’ sorry.”

George was confused.

“What is there for you to be sorry for?” he asked the boy gently, “I thought you did amazing out there.”

“I embarrassed you,” said the boy tearfully, “I was stupid.”

“No, of course not, son,” said George, holding him close to his chest, “You did so well.”

Alexander hiccupped against his chest, mumbling something incoherent.

“What was that?” George asked him quietly, lifting his chin with his finger, making sure that Alexander could look at him.

“M’ not your son.”

“Of course you’re not Alexander.”


End file.
